His hand wraps around the back of my neck and tugs me forward. His lips press against mine, soft at first before giving way to a burning hunger. Heat spreads across my skin as Rowan brands my lips with his tongue, tracing a pattern I feel down to my very heart.
He kisses me until I’m breathless and panting. His eyes lose their brightness as they slide from my face to the window behind me.
I hate seeing him this way. “I can stop guessing. You don’t need to tell me.”
He shakes his head. “We made a deal.” The resigned sigh he releases does little to ease the tension from his body. “I don’t talk much about my mother.”
I reach out and clutch his hand in mine. He holds on to it like a lifeline, barely concealing the tremble in his hand as he squeezes the blood from my fingers. “Some of my memories are confusing since I was so young, but the one thing I remember most about my mom was that she loved King Arthur.”
“No way! She was a history buff?”
He looks at me knowingly. I sigh and give him a soft peck for his next secret. I move away but he tugs me back into his chest and deepens the kiss. Like he needs the extra courage to talk about anything related to his mother.
He might not be searching for love but maybe he’s looking to heal.
I can help with that. I’ve been there.
He releases me before taking a few deep breaths. “My mother was obsessed with history and stories that bordered on fantasy. That’s actually how she and my father met.”
He pauses as if he’s not sure if he should keep going.
“Tell me more. Please?” I kiss his cheek.
“She worked at the tutoring center at the university they both attended. My father walked into the building to pick up his friend whose car was at the shop. My mother was working the counter and asked if he needed help.”
“And?”
“My father was a straight-A student who attended an entire semester’s worth of tutoring sessions for a class he wasn’t even taking.”
“No!” I laugh until I’m hoarse. His parents’ story might be better than mine—not that I would admit that to them.
“It’s true. Mom even revised his fake essays and homework about King Arthur and his knights.”
“I see lying is a Kane family trait here.”
He smirks. “We do anything to get what we want.”
“Ruthless. All of you,” I tease.
He chuckles low under his breath.
“What did your dad say about it all? And how did he get her to agree to a date after pretending for so long?” I need to hear more if only to feed the hopeless romantic in me.
“I don’t remember.” Rowan’s lips press into a thin line, and his hand holding on to mine tenses.
The temperature in the car drops, matching the energy coming off Rowan. My entire chest aches for Rowan’s dad. Despite hearing all about his questionable business decisions, I can empathize with anyone who lost their wife. Especially a man who was willing to attend tutoring sessions for no reason but to spend time with the woman he liked.
And I can feel even more empathy for the children who suffered from similar grief.
I give his hand a squeeze. “So what’s the connection between that story and your middle name?”
“My mother named my brothers and me after King Arthur’s Knights of the Round Table.”
“Those are some big shoes to fill. Didn’t they find the holy grail or something?”
“Or something.” The corner of his mouth lifts again and the tension leaves him like a gust of air. “I have it easy. Declan’s the one who has to introduce himself as Declan Lancelot Kane for the rest of his life.”